


Destinations

by breathelights



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hitchhiker!Stiles, Post season 3a, Pre-Slash, stiles is not from beacon hills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathelights/pseuds/breathelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek couldn't pretend that anything other than pure, unadulterated loneliness caused him to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destinations

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this came from considering I have the next chapter of "I Remain" sitting in my computer half-finished but eh. What's a girl to do?

 

 

 

Derek couldn't pretend that anything other than pure, unadulterated loneliness caused him to stop.  
  
He'd left Beacon Hills months ago, and while there had been hollowness in his chest that he couldn't quite shake, it was okay, because he still had his little sister. It wasn't great, but it was good enough for a while. The two of them drifted from state to state, staying just long enough to rest and do a little sight-seeing. Cora had even enrolled herself into some online classes to make up for all the school she'd missed. She didn't want to be too far behind when they finally found somewhere to settle.  
  
Derek's plan had never been to settle anywhere. Beacon Hills was the only place that would ever feel like home to him. Most people would think he was crazy for feeling that way. He'd lost most of his family there, his betas had died there, every romantic relationship he ever had blew up in his face there. For him, Beacon Hills was like a chasm of pain and death and betrayal, but it was also the place where he learned to ride a bike. It was the place where the Hales would have their annual family cookouts in the summer, and he and Peter would try new, creative ways to sneak dessert past Talia before everything else was finished cooking. It was the place where Derek had teased Laura mercilessly about her first boyfriend until she finally shoved his head through a tree. It's the place where his father taught him how to play baseball, because Beacon Hills was "too uncultured and close-minded to understand the artfulness of America's favorite past time," and  
therefore did not have a high school team.  
  
Derek had hated New York more than anything. It was the complete opposite of everything he associated with home. The city was loud and bustling, and it was so big that he would still sometimes lose his way after six years. He didn't really know anyone despite his high school having thousands of students and their apartment building at least 600 tenants. The only memories he had there were from directly after the fire, when Laura would try to put on a brave face even though she always looked like she wanted to swallow an entire plant of Wolfsbane as soon as he wasn't paying attention, and Derek knew that it was all his fault. He hated New York, and he would find some reason to hate anywhere else he stayed in long enough for it to seem permanent.  
  
Cora found what she was looking for in New Mexico. There was a pack in Santa Fe that was well established and didn't mind taking in wolves with nowhere else to go. The Alpha was a lot like their mom used to be. She didn't even have to speak to dominate a room, and she had a gentle sort of chastisement; it made her betas feel like whatever they had done was the worst thing in the world and caused them to flinch away from her disappointment. Cora was excited about finding somewhere she felt at peace; Derek could tell from the life in her eyes and the freedom of the laughs he'd hardly heard since they were reunited. He also knew that she would give it all up in a heartbeat to stay with him. He didn't want that. The least he could do was make sure his little sister was happy after failing so horribly at protecting her. He left in the middle of the night three weeks into their stay. The Alpha saw him off with a sad but knowing smile. He hadn't answered  
Cora's calls since, and he was fucking lonely.  
  
He missed everyone in Beacon Hills even more now. He missed Erica and Boyd, who he could only hope to visit in his memories and nightmares. He missed Isaac, his first true beta, and how the teen used to look at him like he'd hung the moon before everything went to hell. He missed Scott, even though Scott was an idiot and actually kind of a dick (people tended to overlook it because he was also ridiculously selfless). He even missed fucking _Greenberg_ , Scott's best friend and a blond, wild-haired embodiment of complete and utter catastrophe: the kid had a way of just destroying everything he touched.

(But not Peter. He did NOT miss Peter. Fuck Peter.)  
  
That's how Derek found himself pulling over on the side of a highway in Arizona so a stranger could throw his bags in the backseat and scramble into the passenger's side.  
  
The guy was sweaty from standing out in the Arizona heat wearing jeans and a hoodie. Derek understood the necessity when Guy pulled down his hood to reveal pale skin, flushed from the heat, which would have burned like paper under the Arizona sun. Guy reached over and turned up the A/C without asking.   
  
"I'm dying," he croaked, "I can feel the stroke coming on. Oh my God. Quick does one side of my face look like it's twitching?"   
  
Derek pulled back onto the road without sparing Guy another glance.  
  
"Oh yes," he drawled, "it is spasming uncontrollably. There's a hospital 40 miles up the road, but you'll probably be dead by then."  
  
" That's...that's really fucking rude."  
  
Derek observed from the corner of his eye as Guy began peeling off his hoodie. He didn't look old enough to be out of high school yet. He was probably a runaway. Whatever he was running away from had to be pretty bad to risk his life hitchhiking with strangers.  
  
"How old are you?" Derek asked after Guy had tossed his hoodie with his bags and settled back into his seat with a content sigh. Guy's eyes began darting around suspiciously.  
  
"19."  
  
Derek turned to give him his most unimpressed stare.  
  
"Dude," Guy flailed, "eyes on the fucking road. You're driving!" Derek gazed at him unflinchingly.  
  
"Alright fine! I'm 17! Jesus!" Derek's lips curled into a smug smile and Guy huffed.  
  
"Just watch where you're going," he grumbled, "I would rather not die in a car crash with a stranger."  
  
"You're right," Derek agreed, turning back to the road with a look of complete seriousness, "I might accidentally run into the back of another car on this empty highway. Or maybe I'll run off the road and hit a tree. In the middle of the desert."

  
"Pardon me, but your Jerk is showing." Derek made sure that his laugh was as condescending as physically possible, and Guy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "ass."  
  
"I'm sorry," Derek cupped his ear, "what was that? It sounded kind of like, ‘hey, you should throw me out of your car. Maybe a nice truck driver will pick me up instead.’"  
  
"Whatever, assface."  
  
They spent the next few minutes in silence. Derek was perfectly fine with silence. He had been driving all night, trying to get as much space between himself and everything as he could. He was having a hard enough time concentrating as it was. He didn't need any excess noise distracting him.  
  
Guy, on the other hand, was about to vibrate out of his seat. He kept shifting positions and tugging at his seat belt and making aborted motions to begin drumming on the dashboard with nervous glances in Derek’s direction. Derek pretended not to notice. He stared straight ahead, face carefully blank. He knew he should probably be nicer to Guy. Derek _was_ the one who decided to pick up Guy for his own selfish reasons, and Guy was probably nervous enough about being in a car with a stranger in the middle of nowhere without said stranger acting like a serial killer. But Derek couldn’t help it. Something about Guy squirming anxiously next to him made his wolf huff in amusement. While Derek’s wolf was different enough from his conscious person to essentially be its own separate being, they were enough of each other for Derek to often seek what makes it happy without realising it.

Derek finally took pity on the boy and leaned over to turn on the radio. Guy squeaked, heart-rate skyrocketing as he scrambled to press up against the passenger-side door. Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I left my murder kit at home, so I guess I’ll just turn on the radio instead.” Derek said flatly. He proceeded to turn up the volume with a lot more purpose than the task usually entailed.

It was fascinating watching Guy’s body relax. First his feet unfurled from beneath him, replanting themselves firmly on the floor. Then his arms—which had automatically went up to protect his face—flopped awkwardly to his sides. He sat up completely straight, as if to say, ‘look at my perfect posture obviously I am completely confident right now.’ He laughed, but it was forced and a little bit manic.

“What? I didn’t think you were going to _kill_ me. You seem like a really nice guy, actually.”

…Right.

“What’s your name again?” Guy asked. Derek figured Guy wanted some kind of leads in case Derek dumped his half-mutilated but still breathing body somewhere in the desert and he was miraculously saved by a wandering Good Samaritan. Or a cowboy.

“Derek. And yours?”

“Stiles.” Stiles held up a hand at Derek’s disbelieving look.

“Trust me, dude, you couldn’t pronounce my first name if you tried. Stiles is what everyone used to call me back…before I ran away.”

Derek just shrugged. He didn’t care one way or another if the kid told him his first name. As pathetic as it sounded, Derek just wanted companionship, even if it was only for a little while and in the form of a stranger. He grew up with a large pack, and after they died he at least had Laura. After Laura he had Scott and Greenberg (even though their presence was irritating and unwanted most of the time) and after that he had his betas and Cora. He wasn’t used to being alone; wolves weren’t _made_ to be alone. That’s why he knew he would have to find another pack or return to Beacon Hills (like he truly desired) before he went crazy.

“Don’t call me dude.” He replied instead.

The noise from the radio seemed to give Stiles the confidence that silence took, or perhaps it was simply the act of knowing Derek’s name, making them less of strangers and more of acquaintances. Either way, Stiles leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the dash he was afraid to touch not too long ago. His smile was wide and mischievous and settled on his face like a lost friend.

“So where are we headed, _dude_?”    

 


End file.
